The Pride and Prejudice of Musicians

by Jessica Daw

  “Open it,” she said with her quirky smile.

  I did. I was right. She’d made me a mask.

  “Oh, Dawn,” I breathed. The body of the mask was slim, stylistically pointed, and made of the same deep red fabric as my dress. But that wasn’t what made it fantastic—it was lined with glittering black beads and swirled over with black lace that spun off the corners to form the suggestion of delicate black butterfly wings. It was lovelier than I’d known a masquerade mask could be, and Dawn had been working on rush orders since word of the ball had come out, so I’d seen more than a few. “This is . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  “Your face says it all, Lilly. You’re welcome. Now is Jane helping you with your hair? Because you can’t do it yourself, no offense.”

  “None taken,” I said distractedly, eyes still on the mask. “I’ll have the best mask there,” I said, almost to myself.

  “I’d call that too much flattery, but I don’t think you were really talking to me,” Dawn said.

  “Hmm? Oh. Sorry.”

  She grinned. “No, that’s the best flattery you could’ve given me. Is Jane doing your hair?” she pressed.

  “Um, no. She’s helping Carrie get ready so she’s going to get dressed there.”

  “Lilly! Why didn’t you say something? Hurry, hurry, we need to get started now!” she said urgently. “Get in your corset and underskirt and I’ll do your hair and makeup. Store’s closing early anyway.”

  “Thanks so much, Dawn,” I said sincerely.

  When Dawn was done, I stood in front of the mirror, incapable of tearing my eyes away from myself. I had never looked better. The dress was perfect and took my pretty good figure to the level of a great figure, and the red and black made my skin seem pale and pristine. And the mask . . . somehow, it made my lips look fuller, my hair (which Dawn had swept up and made into a shimmering mass of tiny black beads and slender braids of black lace) darker, my eyes deeper and lashes longer.

  “You’re a miracle worker,” I told her.

  From where she sat frantically putting herself together, she said tensely, “I will be if I’m not late.”

  “Can I help?” I asked, feeling bad that I’d kept her occupied for too long.

  She snorted. “No, Lilly. Not that I know why I’m bothering. No one will look twice at me after they’ve seen you.”

  “As if,” I said dismissively, but I secretly sort of agreed.

  I drove up with the rest of my family, Jane not included. Even Dad came, wearing a suit (not a tux) and a plain black mask that Mom had gotten for him. Lydia and Kitty were clouds of brilliant purple and green, respectively, both sending up little puffs of glitter every time they moved, meaning I sat carefully away from them. I was not in a glitter-is-an-acceptable-addition outfit. Mary wore a sort of stiff beige dress and, no joke, a brown mask. Mom’s dress was bright yellow with royal blue accents, and her mask was twice as tall as was really acceptable, not that it was as tall as her hair.

  When we arrived I trailed behind them, not exactly wanting to arrive with them. I knew it wasn’t very nice, but Lydia and Kitty were already talking too loud and I was sure they’d find the champagne right after they found their swains, and Mom . . . Mary and Dad weren’t as bad, but neither of them looked, well, classy.

  Cade and Carrie and Louise were greeting everyone by the door. Cade cut an impressive figure in a white tux with a deep green vest and mask, bringing out his dark eyes and drawing attention to his black hair. Louise wore silver and black, and Carrie scarlet and gold, Louise with a lacy silver nothing of a mask that didn’t even hide her eyebrows, and Carrie with a gold mask that also did an extremely poor job of hiding a single inch of skin.

  Jane was next to Cade, looking like she’d just stepped out of heaven. Her dress was vintage white lace, flowing from two silver roses on her shoulders in a Grecian fashion, draping around her body in a way I noticed guys had a hard time not noticing. Her hair, too short for most types of updos, was cleverly pulled up with dozens of tiny white lace roses, and her mask was also white lace, very simple and very pretty. On a beauty scale, I couldn’t compete, but I could tell I made a splash as mask-framed eyes followed me.

  Cade greeted me enthusiastically, complimented me lavishly, and made me promise to dance with him. I had attended the dance class, despite my ridiculous schedule, with just about everyone else, and Cade had danced next to me because Jane had come with me.

  Louise and Carrie both gave me what I was sure they hoped were dampening glares, but I was too busy looking for Yuri to care much, and the little part of me that did care knew they were glaring because my mask and hair were better than theirs. In their faces.

  It turned out that I hadn’t seen all of the house when I’d come. They’d opened up lots of rooms, all of which were amazingly decorated and full of guests with masks ranging from plastic dollar-store to nearly as good as mine. The crowds actually fit, but they made finding one actor particularly difficult.

  Eventually I did find Charlotte, who looked very pretty in a soft gray dress and matching mask. “Lilly, Yuri didn’t come,” she said after exclaiming over my dress.

  I looked blankly at her. “What?”

  “I heard Lydia asking Carter about him, and when he told her he hadn’t come I asked why. He told me Yuri said he needed to go into the city, but Carter’s pretty sure he would’ve come if he weren’t trying to avoid Will.”

  I’d told Charlotte Yuri’s story, and apparently Carter knew it as well. “Oh.” I felt sort of numb.

  “He did say to tell you that Yuri had been looking forward to dancing with you,” she said consolingly.

  “Great,” I mumbled, looking down.

  Before I could recover from the disappointment, Collin materialized at my elbow.

  “May I say, Elizabeth, that you are ravishing tonight,” he said in his oddly pinched voice. He wore an ill-fitting tux and a gaudy gold-and-white mask that did his plain face no favors whatsoever.

  “Thanks, Collin,” I said drearily.

  Charlotte, who’d met Collin since he’d been doing his best to replace my shadow, smiled at Collin. She, unlike me, actually wanted to further her relationship with him because he was a connection to the teleplay writing world. Admittedly, her dream was movies, not TV, but an in is an in. “You don’t look bad yourself,” she said to him.

  “Charlotte, you are as gracious as you are lovely,” he said, turning his simpering to her. He started into a monologue about how Catherine de Bourgh had ordered the mask and had it sent to him and how that made her the most brilliant thing since Einstein, or something like that, and as soon as I saw an opportunity I slipped away.

  Only to barely avoid running into none other than Will Darcy.

  I’d only seen Will a few times since the Swimming Pool Incident to work on more music, but we hadn’t been alone between Carrie and Jane and Cade and my younger sisters. We weren’t exactly on good terms, but neither of us was openly antagonistic. Up until then I hadn’t wanted to be. Up until then he hadn’t ruined my first, and almost certainly only, masquerade by scaring off the guy I’d been most excited to dance with.

  “Lilly.” Always just my name.

  “Will,” I said tiredly. It didn’t help my mood that he looked really, really great. His tux (unlike Collin’s) fit his tall, muscular frame perfectly, no vest, crisp white shirt and a black bowtie—and he worked that bowtie like no one’s business. His dark hair was combed back, his face clean shaven. His mask was sleek and black, tied with silk ribbons and embroidered with a subtle silver design. He looked like a romantic hero, with his incredible deep blue eyes staring intently from behind the mask.

  I knew I was staring. It was a bad habit I’d gotten into lately, ever since the Swimming Pool Incident. It wasn’t entirely my fault. I’d started by glancing periodically at him because I kept feeling his eyes on me, and it had gotten worse when I was right more than half the time. I was trying to figure him out. Was he really as bad as Yuri said? W
hy would he do all that? Could anyone be that heartless?

  “Will you dance with me this evening?” he asked.

  What? He couldn’t have surprised me more if he’d suggested we go swimming in our ball things. “I . . . um . . . I’m already—I already have a partner for the first dance.” I was for the first time grateful that Collin had booked me for the first dance as soon as he heard about the ball.

  “The waltz. Later.”

  “Um . . . I . . . yeah, sure, that’d be great,” I said helplessly.

  He nodded and WALKED AWAY. Really? That’s it? Kay, bye, Will! Nice to have plans with you and all.

  I didn’t move for a minute. At first, I may or may not have been admiring the way his tux fit over his very well-shaped shoulders, but then I couldn’t figure out why I hadn’t been able to think of an excuse. How about, “No, thanks, I have a taxidermy appointment I simply must keep” or “Shoot, Will, that’s right when I’m scheduled to bathe my tadpoles”? No, all I could come up with was “that’d be great.” Brilliant, Lilly.

  Or I could’ve just told him no. What did it matter if I offended him? We were done with the music for Jacob Hurst’s film. It wasn’t likely he’d stay in Meryton all that much longer, and even if he did there was no reason for me to see him.

  I guess I could’ve hidden when it was time for the waltz, but I didn’t, even though I’d spent ten whole minutes complaining to Charlotte, stopping only when Collin came to claim her for her dance. It wasn’t like there was anything else I wanted to do. Jane was dancing every single dance with Cade, and Lydia and Kitty were getting glitter on any guy that made the mistake of asking them to dance (enough guys made that mistake that they were dancing the whole time), and Mom was gossiping at the top of her lungs with Aunt Fee, and Dad was sitting and watching everything with an amused expression, and Mary was hovering by the piano, just waiting for an opportunity to show off. Yeah, not so interested in hanging out with my family just then.

  So when waltz time rolled around, I was waiting by the dance floor for Will. He found me just in time to lead me to position before the music started.

  For a minute, I was taken back to the first night I’d seen Will, and how he’d ignored me and called me fashionless, and for that minute I felt a glimmer of triumph. Even he couldn’t think I was a fashionless, mere pretty girl now.

  That triumph couldn’t last as my sole entertainment forever, though. The dances we’d learned were long, and after a stretched minute or two of silence, I had to break it. “This ball was a good idea, don’t you think?” Not exactly brilliant, but something.

  “I suppose so.”

  I waited, but that was the entirety of his contribution. Then again, maybe he did still think I was fashionless and a mere pretty girl. I just could not figure Will out. I tried again. “Lots of people came.”

  “That’s true.”

  I laughed. “Will, we need to talk about something. If you don’t want to talk about the dance, think of something else.”

  He smiled a half-smile that made me suddenly aware that he was touching me. I didn’t like it. “Books, maybe.”

  “No, that would never work,” I said, more to be perverse than anything. I wanted to stop thinking about his hands. And mouth. “I’m sure we never read the same books.”

  “You are, are you?” he asked, and I knew his eyebrows were raised behind his mask.

  “Very.”

  “Then we’ll have all the more to talk about—you can expand my horizons, and I yours.”

  At that moment, the dance drew us closer, and I could feel the warmth of his body on mine. I was too caught up to call myself ridiculous for caring if I could feel Will Darcy’s warmth. Besides, everything was working against me. I was all dressed up and didn’t feel like my normal, don’t-care-what-you-think self, and the room we were in was beautiful and timeless, and Will was this perfect fairytale hero, complete with an English accent, as handsome and fascinating as they come.

  As well as a life-ruiner of one of his childhood friends. I needed to stop. “I never talk about books when I dance,” I shot off randomly.

  “Then it’s your turn to think of a conversation topic.”

  A grin flitted across my face at his turning my own weapon against me. Feeling suddenly wicked in my eagerness to escape the fairytale the stupid part of me wanted to believe in, I said, “I met a friend of yours. Yuri Wickham.”

  He froze. I nearly ran into him before stopping too. We stood for a moment, his eyes locked on mine, icier than I’d ever seen them.

  Then the couple next to us bumped my elbow, and since I was still holding onto him it woke him and he was back in motion.

  I didn’t quite dare say anything else, even though I was terribly curious and knew it was poor-spirited of me.

  Fortunately, he spoke. “Yuri Wickham is extremely talented at making new friends. His gift doesn’t extend to keeping them.” His voice was like stone.

  “Usually it takes two to maintain a friendship,” I pointed out.

  “I do not make a habit of maintaining friendships with people I can’t trust.”

  “Yuri lost your trust.”

  “He did.”

  “And there’s nothing he can do to regain it?”

  “I don’t trust people easily, and I never trust twice.” He spoke with such certainty, such clarity—utterly implacable.

  “Do you think that’s a virtue?” I knew I was pushing too hard, but I had to ask.

  “It may be a vice, but the world I live in does not allow me the luxury of overcoming it.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  Just then, the dance took us next to Mayor Wilson Lucas, in a mask just a step above the plastic dollar store variety. “Oh, hello, Will, Lilly,” he said jovially. “You two make a stunning pair. I hope to see you dancing together when a special something takes place.”

  Oh, heaven. He was looking straight at Jane and Cade. Why would he take it into his head to make Will think Jane and Cade were going to get married? They weren’t even officially dating!

  Before either of us replied, Wilson Lucas moved away again. But Will went on staring at Jane and Cade, a very serious expression on his face.

  “Small towners love gossiping,” I said, suspicions forming in my mind involving Will’s influence over Cade combining with that of Cade’s sisters, who I knew couldn’t want Cade to fall in love with someone who was so very unknown.

  “What?” he asked sharply, looking back at me. I gave him a weird look. “Excuse me, I was distracted. What were we talking about?”

  “I don’t think we were talking,” I replied. It was true—at the moment of interruption we’d fallen silent.

  “Ah. Whose turn is it to choose a topic?”

  “Mine,” I said, though I wasn’t sure. “You’re very careful, aren’t you, when you decide someone can no longer be trusted?”

  “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “I’m trying to figure out what sort of person you are,” I replied candidly.

  “And what have you ‘figured out’?” he asked, his eyes shuttered.

  “I can’t figure you out at all,” I said with frustration. “I think I’ve got it, and then you say or do something, or someone says something, and everything’s all confusing again!”

  “Word of mouth won’t help you much,” he said, picking up on my careless mention of people saying things. My bad.

  The dance, almost over, drew us close one last time, making me breathless and angry that I was breathless. “Then what do you recommend? It’s not like we can spend more time together.”

  “No. Heaven forbid you spend time with me,” he said, his voice cold, his accent clipping his words more pointedly than it usually did.

  Who knows what I would have said next? I may have gone so far as to apologize. But the song ended, and we parted without another word.

  I wanted to be alone. I needed to think. But there’s nothing like wanting to be alone to assure you’ll have company. C
arrie Bingley stopped me as I tried to find somewhere quiet.

  “Lilly, your sister’s just been asking me endless questions about Yuri Wickham, and I think there’s something you should know about him.”

  “What?” I asked dully.

  “He was a foster child,” she confided in a tone that would imply that foster child was synonymous with convicted murderer.

  “I know.”

  “Oh. Well, William Darcy—Will’s father—took Yuri under his wing, and Will tried to help him after William’s death, but he betrayed Will.”

  “How so?” I asked, my irritation leaking liberally into my tone.

  Her perfectly lined lips tightened. “I don’t know exactly, but I know it was very bad. It involved Will’s sister.”

  “Yeah. Yuri already told me about that. He, apparently, is more open than Will. And there is nothing wrong with being a foster child, Carrie,” I said scornfully.

  Her eyes narrowed behind her nothing mask. “Excuse me for trying to be a good friend,” she said coldly.

  “You’re excused. Have a nice life,” I said before brushing past her and back into the crowd, needing quiet now more than ever.

  But my family was apparently having a contest named Who can Embarrass Lilly the Most? As I tried to escape, I passed Mom, still sitting with Aunt Fee but now surrounded by a small group of busybodies. She was bragging loudly about how her daughter was going to marry a celebrity.

  What? Since when did everyone decide Cade and Jane were getting married? As far as I knew, they still hadn’t so much as exchanged phone numbers. And why was Mom talking so loud? I gave her a look, but she just said, “Lilly, don’t be jealous. You’ll have your own celebrity soon,” with a broad wink and a very un-surreptitious nod in Collin Williamson’s direction. “He’s not as handsome, of course, but he’ll do for you, dear.”

  I couldn’t believe Mom had just said that—even for Mom, that crossed a line. And of course as I tried to hurry away I saw Will standing well within hearing range, an intent expression on his face. I swore under my breath and escaped before he tried to talk to me. Not that he seemed very interested in talking to me at the moment, but nonetheless.